Free Playing God by Sarah Zettel Page B

sickened and died, the Getesaph and their allies contacted the Humans. No one knows what passed between them. Then, they start this idea of Confederation. Bring the Humans in, give them control over our fates, let them take charge of our home. Oh, all for the most benevolent reasons, of course. Let the mighty Humans wipe out the plague and clean up the radioactive zones.”
    Dizziness threatened. It had been so long since she'd been with so many family. The room was full of them, all their consciousnesses pressing against her, demanding attention. Her sisters both touched her, and it was as if they touched will and soul as well as skin. She wanted to relax, to let the feelings carry her away to calm and love.
    But she couldn't. Something was wrong; she knew it. She tasted it on the back of her tongue like the spices from their dinner.
    “I don't understand, Sisters.” Her voice sounded thick.
    “Can't you hear? Ancestors Mine! It shouts at us from the sky!” Armetrethe gripped Praeis with all the strength of her one hand. “The Getesaph entered into an agreement with the Humans. If the Humans place us, all of our Great Family, in a vulnerable position for them, the Getesaph will pay the Humans with the life from our planet.”
    For a moment Praeis saw it. For a split second, it made perfect sense. But all her long years of living and working with Humans pulled her back.
    “Sisters”—she took their hands—“I hear you. I feel you in my blood. But what you're suggesting is not possible. No Human enclave would agree to enter into a war.”
    “You've lived with them, Sister,” said Senejess, dejection plain in her voice and the set of her ears. “We must bow to your superior knowledge.”
    “You must bow to nothing of mine, Sisters,” said Praeis softly. “But I ask you, on the strength of where I have been and whom I have known, to listen to me closely.”
    Cold, hard disappointment welled up through her fingertips, and Praeis knew they would not. Perhaps they could not.
    “I call the house!” shouted a voice from outside.
    Senejess jerked around. “Who … ?” She got up swiftly and went to the window. “It's a messenger. I'll take it.”
    She went to the front door and after a moment returned with a folded, unsealed square of paper.
    “It is for you, Praeis.”
    Puzzled, but grateful for the distraction, Praeis took the letter. It just had her name and the house name on the outside.
    She unfolded the paper. The words inside were machine printed, and the language was English.
    Ancestors Mine,
she thought.
It's from Lynn.
    “What is it?” asked Senejess, leaning over her shoulder. “What language is that?”
    “English,” said Praeis. “One of the major Human languages. I find it more difficult than Mandarin.”
    She read:
    Dear Praeis,
    Hey, look at this, I've put words on paper. This is so strange. I can't manage your thing with the pen. I am even more impressed with you than before.
    I was hoping to ask you a favor. David has pulled hospital duty at the
Aurion-in-Uieth
near you.
Praeis sucked in her breath. Lynn had named one of the larger plague hospitals.
    He says they're having trouble sorting out the victims and their families for the relocation schedule. Could you visit the site and do a little cultural interp for them so we all know what's up? I'm afraid you were right when you said your home was far more alien than your colony. I appreciate whatever you can do.
    All okay with the Queens? Anything you need from us?
    GET HOOKED UP. I've got a machine reserved for you. All you have to do is find somewhere to put it. This letter thing makes a great party trick, but we need to do some serious brain dumps soon.
    Lynn Nussbaumer
    Praeis's ears waved. She could practically hear Lynn's voice reading the letter to her. She looked up and saw her sisters standing expectantly over her.
    “It is from one of the Humans with Bioverse,” she said. “I have worked with her a long time.” She translated